


Rockabye baby

by Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag



Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: 17 year old Dean, Abusive John Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitute Dean, song related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag/pseuds/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag
Summary: Someone had to take care of Sammy, whatever it took.17 year old prostitute Dean working the corner to bring in enough for Sam and him to eat.Got an idea while listening to Rockabye baby at work.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The versions of young Sam/Dean I had invisioned for this fic I got from this image. https://goo.gl/images/65AKSY but imagine whatever version of them you'd like :)

  
He worked the nights, on the corner. He'd strayed so far away from the ideal son Mary thought she left behind. She'd be ashamed if she could see him now, selling his body to any and everyone. But none of that mattered to Dean. All that mattered was giving Sammy a good life, a better life, nothing like his own.

Sammy was 13 now, and could take care of himself for the most part. But he was also a growing teenager, who although skinny ate like a damn football player. Their father barely left enough money for them to survive one day let alone the several weeks they went without him.

Dean had started prostituting young. Younger than he ever should have. But Sammy had to eat. Needed stuff for school. Sammy always came first. Dean would always take care of Sam, even if John didn't.

Dean pulled his dads old and worn leather jacket closer to his body. It was cold out tonight, probably in the low 40s or so. Not cold enough to see his breath but cold enough that he was losing feeling in his limbs. He hoped he got picked up soon, if only for some warmth.

He pushed a cheap cigarette between his teeth and inhaled upon lighting. He hated smoking, thought it was a disgusting habit, but the nicotine helped calm his mind of the shame he was about to endure.

Headlights flashed to his left and he saw a decently large semi pull into the gas station parking lot. The guy in it gave Dean a look he was all too familiar with and Dean took it as his cue and hurried across the street.

-*-

Dean stuffed the crumpled bills into the front pocket of Sam's old jeans. Sammy was growing like a weed these days so most of his pants had to be replaced every few months. Another expense John didn't ever bother to pay for. All that mattered to him was weapons, whiskey, and ammo. Not clothes, not food, and sure as hell not a roof over their heads. Dean always had to scramble to find an open motel at the last minute after their dad took off with the Impala.

Dean didn't mind Sam's clothes though. They bagged a little at the bottom but they were tight in all the right places, and in Dean's business, that was a necessity.

He pushed another cigarette in his mouth to wash out the taste of semen and continued walking. It wouldn't be long before another lonely trucker pulled up.

Dean rolled in around 5 am, an hour or so before Sam had to get up for school. His muscled ached and his body reeked of stale cigarettes, sweat and shame. He knew he needed to shower, but he didn't think his muscles would take him that far.

He made a little over $200 tonight, which was better than usual but not great. It would pay for the motel another day and maybe tomorrow's dinner but not much else. He knew he'd have to lift some food from the gas station later, maybe even see if he could pick up some customers during the day. It was unlikely, but he'd have to try. They'd run out of John's pitiful offering by the morning, he at least had to try.

-*-

A warm shower helped ease the ache and feelings of guilt that constantly threatened to knock Deans feet out from under him. He didn't bother getting dressed, just wrapped a towel around his hips before heading to their shared bedroom. He took less than five steps before collapsing on the moth bitten mattress, giving one last glance over at Sam's bed before giving in to exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean knew it was risky hustling during the day, but he felt bad not being able to give Sam more than $10 for lunch. Sam understood, told Dean he'd be ok skipping lunch today, but Dean refused. Dean could survive without eating, but he wouldn't ever let Sam suffer. Even a tiny bit.

Today wasn't nearly as cold as last night so Dean stuck with a plain plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and top button undone. His jeans were tighter than yesterday, curtiosy to the hotels industrial dyer.

He smoked through half his pack before picking up his first customer. The guy only wanted a hand job, which was fine with Dean. He was still pretty sore from last night.

The guy threw a $20 at Dean when he was finished, barking at him to get out of his car, shame evident on his face. And judging by the 2 booster seats and wedding ring, the guy had every right to be.

His next customer didn't come until the late afternoon. The guy that waved him over was young, younger than his usual clientele, more attractive too. He couldn't of been older than 25, with gorgeous dark, smooth skin. The guy took care of himself, that much was evident.

Dean approached the sleek four-door sedan and leaned against the frame, knocking gently on the tinted glass.   
  
The man rolled down his window half way and gave Dean the most breathtakingly gorgeous smile. Damn this guy was beautiful.

"Hey kid, how are you doing?"

"Ive got a hot guy checking me out, can't complain," Dean smirked and shrugged, turning on his charm.   
  
The older man laughed, rolling down his window more and letting his arm fall out, just inches away from Dean.

"Well you're not too bad yourself kid. How old are you?"

Dean tensed a little, unsure if he should answer honestly. If he answered too young he could lose his customer, but the same could happen if he was too old. He settled for his standard response, hoping it would suffice.

"I can be as old as you want me to be."

The mans smile faded and Dean panicked. He desperately needed this customer.

"Come on kid, you can tell me. Here, I'll tell you my age if you tell me yours. That's fair right?"

Dean bit the inside of his cheek but nodded. He hoped this wouldn't bite him in the ass.

"I just turned 17," Dean said, breathing a sigh of relief when the guy smiled.

"Hop in."

-*-

The motel the older man took Dean to was a hell of a lot nicer than the one he and Sam were staying at. But then again, if the dude could pay for sex, he could probably afford it.

Once the door shut behind them, Dean didn't waste any time. He pulled his tight plaid shirt off and tossed it on the floor. He began to unbuckle his jeans when a thick hand stopped him.

"Slow down kid, this place doesn't charge by the hour."

"Yeah, but I do," Dean said seriously, eyeing the man for any indication he was going to get ripped off.

"Id prefer payment up front. $20 for a hand-job, $30 for a blowjob, $50 for a fuck, $100 if you want it bareback."

Dean watched as the mans eyebrows flew up. Great, the guy was probably expecting a cheap fuck.

"You let guys fuck you bareback?"

 _Oh_. Dean just shrugged. "No ones taken me up on it yet, but yeah. I mean a fucks a fuck right?"

"No kid, a fucks not just a fuck. Don't you know about HIV?"

"Listen man," Dean huffed in irritation, "you wanna fuck me or not?" He was here to work, not get lectured. "Because if not, don't waste my time. I got a business to run."

The older man sighed but didn't say anything, just reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled up, exposing perfectly chiseled washboard abs. Dean had to snap his mouth closed to keep from drooling. He couldn't help but let a smile form on his lips. He might actually enjoy fucking this one.

"Flip over," the guy said and Dean mentally scolded himself for how quickly he did it. He didn't mean to act like such a starved whore.

He heard the distinct sound of two pieces of metal clacking together and looked over his shoulder to see a pair of handcuffs in the mans hand.

"Oh, you're a kinky son of a bitch aren't you," he teased, locking his wrists behind his back. He felt the familiar feel of cool metal snugly fitting around his wrists and sighed contently. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked being tied up.

The warmth of the mans hands around his wrists disappeared as quickly as it appeared and he felt the man pulling at his jeans. He lifted his hips so the man could reach his fly, but the hand traveled in a different direction, towards the wallet stuffed in his front pocket.

"Hey- what the hell are you doing!?" Dean shouted, jerking up from the bed only to be shoved back down hard. He could hear the man shuffling through his wallet and Dean fumed. He worked hard for that cash, he wouldn't let some asshole steal it from him.

"Dean Winchester?"

Dean froze. The guy found his license. Now he knew his name. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Im detective Derek Morgan. I work with the Chicago Police Department in sex crimes. You're under arrest for underage solicitation."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean fumed in the backseat, plotting his attack when Derek opened the door. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Interfering with his business. He had a kid at home to feed god damn it.

As soon as the door opened, Dean spit in the cops face, consequences be dammed.

Derek didn't say anything, just wiped the spit from his cheek and laughed, no trace of humor in his tone.

"Well, I was going to let you off with a warning, take you home. Maybe even take pity on you because I've seen too many kids go down the wrong path for the right reasons. Maybe even get some sleep tonight knowing I did the right thing. But you seem to have made my mind up for me. I'll sleep just fine knowing you can't turn any more tricks from a holding cell. Maybe a good nights sleep will help you fix your attitude."

Derek slammed the door hard, smiling when the noise startled Dean in the backseat.

-*-

Dean's leg bounced rapidly in the backseat of 'Derek's' undercover sedan. He was so fucked. He couldn't go to jail, he needed to take care of Sammy! John sure as hell wouldn't. He probably wouldn't even be home for another week, Sam would be left all alone! He had to get out of here.  
  
He twisted and folded his fingers, trying to slip free of the cuffs. All he needed was one hand free...

"Don't even think about it kid," Derek said, and Dean flushed, eyes snapping to the ones in the rear view mirror. He shot the man a glare and slumped back in the seat. He'd have to be quieter next time.

-*-

Dean kicked and fought as Derek used his obvious height and strength advantage to man handle him into a holding cell. The place stink of booze and urine and Dean had to hide his face in his shirt to keep from throwing up.

Derek had made himself comfortable in front of a computer, legs propped up on the desk with a magazine in one hand and coffee in the other. Dean nearly growled.

"Is this what you do, huh? Throw innocent kids in jail while murders and rapists on the street walk free? I'm sure my dad would be glad to hear his taxes pay your fucking salary."

Derek didn't seem to take the bait and that just pissed Dean off more.

"Hey! Asshole, I'm talking to you! Where's my phone call? You gonna deny me that too? Pretty sure that shits illegal!"

"You can have a phone call when you calm down," Derek said calmly, flipping the page of the magazine but not looking up.

"I need to make that phone call now, I gotta check on someone."

"Your phone call time is completely dependent on your attitude Dean."

Dean huffed and punched the bars. "If you're not going to let me go, the least you can do is let me call my kid and explain why."

That gained Derek's attention. "You have a kid?"

 _Well not technically, but he might as well be,_ Dean thought.

"Maybe. Can I call him or not?"

Something in Derek's face changed and Dean straightened. After a few moments of deafening silence, Derek sighed, lifting up the cordless phone from the receiver.

"Number?"

"785-224-6789," Dean said quickly, reaching through the bars to grab the phone.

"Try to keep it under 5 minutes alright?"

Dean nodded and pressed the phone against his ear, desperate to hear Sam's voice. He had to know he made it home ok.

"De?"

Dean let out a heavy, relieved sigh that turned into a laugh when that familiar cracking voice came over the line. It still amazed him what those two letters could do to his mental state.

"Hey Sammy, its good to hear from you. Sorry I wasn't there to pick you up from school."

"It's ok, I didn't mind walking."

"I'm still sorry, did you have a good day at least?"

"It was alright," Sam said and Dean could _hear_ Sam's sad shrug over the phone.

"Sammy? You ok?"

"Dean. Where the hell are you?"

Dean's blood turned to ice as John's voice filled the receiver.

"D-Dad?"

"Answer the question Dean!"

His dad was drunk and pissed, which only meant one thing. Hunt didn't go well, and he needed someone to take it out on. And Dean wasn't there to take the beating. Dean clenched his eyes shut and tried to hold back the tears. He wasn't there to protect Sammy.

"I uh, I can't come home tonight dad. I'm sorry-" Dean tried, knowing whatever he could of said would only infuriate his father more, and in turn hurt Sammy. "I-I got holed up some place. But I'll be back by morning I promise. Just- leave Sammy out of it, please?"

  
Derek folded his arms across his chest and frowned. His gut was screaming at him to dive deeper into this case, but other than suspicion, he had nothing to base it on. Yet at least. He motioned for Dean to wrap it up and watched as his face grew panicked.

"Dad, I gotta go. Can I talk to Sammy again? Please- can I at least say goodnight! DAD!"

The line went dead.

"Son of a bitch!"

Dean whipped the phone at the cell wall hard, causing the battery to separate from the phone and skid across the floor to Derek's feet.

Derek raised his eyes to scowl at Dean but softened when he saw the younger man crouched on the floor, completely folded into himself.

"I'm sorry, I'll pay for it," Dean mumbled out, voice just barely above a whisper. Derek was sure he was crying.

"Don't worry about it kid. I doubt you're the first to do that," Derek said softly, approaching Dean slowly as if he was a scared deer. "Can you stick your arms through the bars for me?"

When Dean's head came up, Derek's suspicions were confirmed. Dean's eyes were red and swollen. He had definitely been crying.

"Wh-why?"

"Because," he said, unlocking the metal cuffs from the younger mans wrists, "I'm taking you home kid."

-*-

Dean rubbed his wrists gently, still trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable sting. He still hadn't figured out Derek's change of heart, but he'd be damned if he looked a gift horse in the mouth.

He had given Derek the address of their motel, and based on how long it took them to get to the station, it was going to be an awkward 30 minutes.

  
It was a while before either of them spoke, and when they did, it was Derek who broke the silence.

"Tell me something kid, how is it a smart kid like you wound up in prostitution? Are you morally against working at McDonalds or something?"

Dean could tell the guy was trying to make a joke, probably to lighten the mood, but Dean didn't have it in him to laugh. All he cared about was getting to Sammy on time.

"My dad moves around for work a lot. Makes it kinda hard to hold down any type of job."

"And you're working to help support Sammy right?"

Dean nodded and continued to stare out the window.

"Kid eats like a football player, and he grows out of clothes faster than I can buy them. Though I shouldn't complain, my wardrobes doubled in size."

Derek shot him a weird look and Dean sighed, knowing he better come clean.

"Sam's not my kid. He's my little brother. Though he might as well be my kid, I've raised him since he was 6 months old."

"And how old is he?"

"He'll be 13 in May."

"Your dad doesn't help you?"

Dean couldn't hold back the bitter laugh that escaped his throat.

"Please. He's too busy working or getting drunk to give a shit about us."

Dean didn't miss the way Derek's fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

"What about your mom?"

"Dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? You didn't kill her," Dean deadpanned, looking at the clock and internally cursing. It had only been 3 minutes.

"Dean? Can I ask you something personal?"

Dean wanted to groan. He was sure he'd regret it if he said yes, but he had a feeling Derek wasn't the kind of guy to take no for an answer.

"Fine."  
  
"Does your dad, ever get violent with you? Or Sammy?"

Dean visibly tensed. If he told the truth, they'd take his dad away, which honestly wouldn't be a bad thing, but what if they took Sammy away too? Dean was having a shitty enough time trying to keep the both of them feed, he couldn't afford a home too. They send Sam into foster care, and he'd be damned if he let that happen.

"Of course not," he lied, and Derek sent him a look that read right through his bullshit.

"Dean, I heard you on the phone. If your dads hitting you-"

"He's not ok! So just drop it!" Dean snapped, fists clenched at his sides so hard they turned white. Derek seemed to take the hint and shut up, leaving the car in a dead silence for the remaining 27 minutes.

-*-

"This the place?" Derek asked skeptically, eyeing the run down motel.

"Yup. 12B. Anyway, thanks for the ride. I'm gonna go-"

"Hang on," Derek had a grip around Dean's wrist before he could even unbuckle his seat belt.

"I'm gonna give you my card. I want you to give me a call if you ever need anything. Any day or time alright?"

Dean looked at the card like it was going to bite him. Derek sighed and stuffed it in Dean's shirt pocket.

"Take care of yourself ok? Say hi to Sammy for me."

Dean gave Derek one last look before nodding and stepping out of the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of physical abuse.

Dean took a deep breath before sliding his motel key into the door. There was no telling what state John would be in now. He only hoped it hadn't escalated, for Sammy's sake. He could hear Derek's car idling in the background, probably sticking around in case things got bad. He was actually grateful for the presence, even if it wouldn't benefit him. With the last of his nerve, he unlocked and pushed the door open.

It was relatively quiet, minus the car commercial playing on the tv in the corner. Sammy was in bed, curled up in the second queen they shared, facing away from Dean. He couldn't initially see John, which relieved and worried him at the same time.

He quietly stepped into the room, not wanting to wake Sammy, when a sharp pain radiating in the back of his skull followed by a deafening ringing made him cry out. Though his vision had turned spotty temporarily, he could still see that he woke Sam and mentally cursed himself. It was only when he felt his shoulder being ripped from its socket did he realize the cause of the pain. John had struck him.

"Just where the FUCK have you been!? I come home from a hunt to find Sam, alone, and my supposedly 'responsible' son nowhere to be found?"

"Dad! I was-"

"I thought I was clear Dean, your only job was to watch out for Sam!"

"I was!" Dean shouted, but John was having none of it.

"The doors and windows weren't even salted Dean! The hell were you thinking! You left your brother completely exposed!"

Dean could handle being screamed at, beat, neglected, called almost every name in the book and take it with stride. But he'd be damned if he was going to let John accuse him of not looking out for Sammy.

"Listen here you son of a bitch," Dean seethed, standing up to his father for the first time in his life, "I _was_ looking out for Sammy. I was out working my ass off to bring in enough money to feed him for the week while you ran off on a hunt. We can't survive on $100 dad, that barely covers the room for a night. Sam needs money for lunch, clothes, shit for school and I don't see you providing it. So yeah, I was gone for a few hours, but at least I know how to provide for this family."

The strike that followed had Dean's head reeling. He didn't think he'd ever been hit so hard in his life. His body crumbled to the floor hard, surely bruising several limbs. But Dean didn't have much time to think about it, seeing in the next second he was being yanked from the floor and drug through the doorway.

Sam lept to his feet to help but John was already on him, screaming at him to stay put. Dean shot Sammy a look and tried his damnedest to be convincing in his gaze. But everything was not going to be ok, Sam knew it, and Dean knew Sam knew.

The second the door opened, Dean's eyes frantically scanned the parking lot for Derek's sedan, only to find it missing. His one and only hope for salvation was gone.

-*-

Dean vaguely heard the sound of the Impalas tires screeching over the pounding in his ears. Everything ached, and he fumed knowing this would put him out of work for a while. He and Sam depended on his ability to work, and now, thanks to the beating John gave him, it would be at least 3 days till he could put out again. He hoped he and Sam could survive on the $250 he'd earned the past few days.

He rubbed the sleeve of his jacket across a nearby window and squinted to see through the rain streaked glass. It wasn't great, but it was enough to see the damage John left. He'd have a black eye tomorrow, that was certain. There was a scratch just below his left cheek bone that he wasn't too worried about, it would heal in about a day. His lip was split, but not enough to make blow jobs impossible, just unpleasant.

Hand jobs weren't out of the question either. Aside from a dislocated shoulder, his arms were in working order. The rest of his body however was a different story. He knew from past experiences he had a fractured rib. That would take weeks to heal completely, but at least a week to be able to move without wanting to die.

But even then, he wasn't worried so much about the pain. He had spent majority of his life healing from attacks, whether it was from monsters or his father. The thing he was worried about most was the bruises. Most of Dean's business was attributed to his looks. He knew no guy was going to want to fuck a kid who looked like he'd been beaten within an inch of his life...

Dean could feel angry tears starting to well in his eyes and quickly scrubbed them away with the back of his hand. He needed to check on Sammy, not sit around and feel sorry for himself. He took another minute to compose himself before returning to his Sammy.

-*-

When he pushed the door open, he was ambushed by thin but strong arms, wrapping themselves around his bruised torso. It surprisingly didn't hurt, and made every second of the last 24 hours worth it in Dean's mind. He loved Sam, more than he'd ever loved anything.

He hugged Sam back tightly, kissing his forehead through long bangs. The action would probably look weird to anyone else, but the relationship Sam and Dean had had never been normal by conventional standards.

Dean continued to hold Sam, only pulling back when he heard a sniffle.

"Sam? Hey, you alright?"

Sam didn't look up, just shook his head back and forth. Dean could see wetness on his brothers cheeks and panicked, pulling away enough to wipe his brothers tears.

"Sammy? What's wrong?"

Sam bit his lip and stayed quiet, seeming to want to hide behind the thick curtain of his hair. Dean hated when Sam got quiet, it scared him more than Johns yelling. At least with yelling, he knew what John was thinking. When Sam went radio silent, it made Dean feel completely helpless.

"Sam, please. Talk to me," Dean begged, cradling the side of Sam's face gently. If only he could get Sam to look at him.

"You got hurt," Sam finally said, voice just barely above a whisper.

Dean tried his best to brush it off, but he knew the blossoming bruises and reddening scratch would give him away.

"I'm alright Sam, it doesn't hurt," he lied, but he knew Sammy could see right through that. His brother was shaking his head before he even finished his sentence.

"No, Dean. You got hurt because of _me_ ," Sam said, and damn it if that didn't break Dean's heart. He wrapped Sam up in a tight hug, rubbing his brothers back as soothingly as he could.

"Sam, no. You can't possibly think that can you? Listen, I was the one who didn't come home ok? Not you. I was the one who back-talked dad and rilled him up when he was already drunk. You didn't do anything wrong ok?"

"But- if you didn't have to take care of me-"

"Sammy," Dean held up his hand for Sam to stop, "Sam you're the kid. All you should have to worry about is turning your algebra homework in on time ok? I've never minded taking care of you, that's what big brothers do right?"

"I guess so..." Sam said eventually, and Dean smiled.

"You're damn right," Dean teased and he saw the corner of Sam's mouth lift. He pulled Sam to his chest again for one last hug before pushing him gently and reminding him to brush his teeth before bed.

Sam scoffed and shoved Dean back, muttering out a "yeah yeah, bossy" on his way to the bathroom, and Dean couldn't help but smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AN: in an effort to get this posted on time, I did not get a chance to throughly proofread. Please let me know if it needs editing)


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was busy counting out his weekly earnings and trying to budget how they were gonna survive the next week when he got the call.

Well, technically, John got the call. It was one of the several cell phones John owned for other hunters to contact him. He had given that one to Dean to borrow for the time being. Of course that was two years ago. Dean was safe to assume it was his now.

The phone buzzed irritably and Dean pulled himself out of bed to answer the phone. If someone was calling him, it was probably bad news.

He was right.

"Hello?"

"Hello is this Dean Winchester?"

"Depends who's asking."

"Oh um- this is Vice Principal Sheppard, over at Ridgeview High? Sam told me that since your fathers passing you were now his legal guardian."

Dean's mouth quirked up, that was a damn smart move. He was impressed. 

"Uh, yes I'm Dean. Hi sorry. Is everything ok? Sammy isn't hurt is he?"

"Well, no. He did however injure another student fairly badly. It seems there was an altercation during passing period and it's resulted in a 5 day suspension. You'll have to come pick him up."

"5 days? Did the other kid get 5 days?"

"Well no-"

"Why the hell not!"

"It's my understanding Sam threw the first punch."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Well did the other kid start it? Was Sam provoked?"

"I'm not sure who started it Mr. Winchester, but Ridgeview has a zero tolerance policy for violence. I was able to talk Principal Jennings out of expulsion because I do believe Sam was provoked. However that is the best I can do. You will have to come fill out some paperwork when you pick him up. When's the earliest you can be here?"

Dean sighed and looked at his watch. The school was about a 5-10 minute drive which would put him at a half hour walk at least.

"I'll be there in 45 tops. That cool?"

"Yes Mr. Winchester, that will be just fine. Thank you."

Dean snapped the phone closed and sighed before pulling his bruised and battered self out of bed once more.

-*-

Dean bit his nails down to nubs waiting on Sam to be released. Apparently, the kids parents wanted to talk to Sam too, and Dean hadn't made it there in time to stop them.

When they finally finished with their interrogation, Dean lept from his chair, scanning the small crowd of people for Sam.

The first person to leave must have been the other kids mom. She was small, and frail but with a look that could kill. She sent Dean an unimpressed once over.

"Matching shiners, you guys must really be brothers," she spat out, causing Dean's fists to clench at his side.

When Sam finally did come out, he was sporting a bruise, deep and purple though only hours old. It fueled Dean with rage to see his brother hurt like this, and if Sam hadn't done a damn good job of it already, Dean would have taken his pound of flesh out of the kids ass.

Sam's eyes lit up when they landed on Dean though Dean couldn't quite understand why. He was quickly wrapped in yet another tight hug, and Dean knew Sam had been through some shit.

"I was so scared they'd call dad," Sam whispered and Dean instantly understood the previous look. John would have done worse things to Sam than that kid had without a second thought. Public be damned.

"Mr. Winchester?" A familiar voice said, and Dean turned to see what must have been Vice Principal Sheppard. She was a heavier set woman, with a pretty smile and wide eyes. She motioned them to her office with her head and the two younger boys followed, heads held high to face punishment.

-*-

Sam was quiet most of the way home which drove Dean insane. He wanted so desperately to know what was going on in that big brain of Sam's, especially when he looked as miserable as he did. Dean knew from experience it took prodding to get Sam to talk when he got quiet like this.

"Sammy? What are you doing? You can't be fighting in school man. Don't you wanna get into college?"

"Of course I do Dean," Sam huffed angrily, pulling his jacket one tighter. "But that kid deserved what he got. He called me a freak, and you a-."

"Called me a what?"

"He called you a faggot."

Dean grimaced. He wasn't a fan of the word, but the kid wasn't wrong. Dean had known what he was for years. But he couldn't explain that to Sam. He didn't want him to think less of him.

"Sam, kids say stupid shit all the time just to be dicks. I appreciate you defending my honor though."

Sam still hid quietly behind his hair and Dean knew Sam wasn't telling the whole story.

"Sam? Was there something else?"

Sam stayed quiet. It made Dean want to scream.

"Dean...I know." He mumbled quietly, stopping and keeping his eyes down.

"I don't know what you're talking about Sam." Dean swallowed hard, hoping Sam wasn't insinuating what he thought he was.

Sam stopped and sighed. "I saw you, by the gas station last week when we went for a run in gym...You got in someone's car, and left a few minutes later."

Dean's fists clenched at his side and his stomach turned like someone kicked him in the gut. _No_.

"I'm not stupid Dean. We don't stay in one place long enough for you to hold down a minimum wage job..."

Dean's face was pale now, and he felt like he was going to pass out. This was something he wanted to take to the grave, not talk about as casually as you would the weather.

"Sam..." Dean warned, wanting Sam to stop before he went into a full panic episode. He did what he had to to survive. To give Sam a good life. No matter what that meant.

"Why Dean? Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Why do you think Sam?" Dean snapped, motions of fury, shame, and disgust all bubbling to the surface. "You know what, I don't know why I'm being put on trial here. You're the one who got himself kicked out of school."

Sam's face paled and he knew he'd crossed a line.

"Dean!"

But Dean didn't listen. He was pissed, embarrassed, and just wanted to disappear. If only for a little bit.

"I'm getting us dinner. Just go home Sam."

Sam let out a heavy sigh of defeat, knowing that was the end of that conversation, and turned back in the direction of their motel.  


	6. Chapter 6

Dean took the long way home, which arguably was a bad idea with a hand full of burgers and sodas. But he wanted the extra time to think. Sam knew, cats out of the bag on that one. But how long until he told dad? John wouldn't let him _near_ Sam again if he found out what he was doing. Especially if he knew he was sleeping with guys...Dean shuddered and shook away the thought.

He balanced the drinks on top of each other as he pushed his key in the motel door. He was surprised they hadn't fallen, he usually wasn't this coordinated. But when he found the room empty, the drinks toppled in his fear. Cola splattered and stained the harsh motel floor along with the bottom of his jeans.

He crossed the floor in large strides, searching under the mattresses and behind chairs for where Sam could be hiding. When the room turned up empty, he cursed, punching the door hard enough to splinter the cheap wood.

Just as he was able to leave to scour the entire state, he heard a small sniffle, coming from the adjoining bathroom. He caught sight of the shower curtain, shifting slightly after another sniffle.

"Sam?" Dean asked, quieter this time. He didn't want to scare Sam, any more than he probably already had.

"Hey Sammy? That you in there?"

He reached to pull the shower curtain back, gripping his knife with his other hand in the case it wasn't Sam hiding in the shower.

He yanked the curtain back and sighed with relief when he found his brother, curled into himself and crying.

"Sammy. Fuck, you scared me."

Sam ignored him, turning farther away and continued sniffling. Dean knew he'd fucked up somehow, but he didn't even know where to start with an apology.

"Hey buddy. Listen, I got us some dinner. Though, I dropped our drinks. So we might have to settle for tap. Sorry about that."

He tried to get Sam to laugh with that, but he just continued to ignore him. It was killing Dean.

"Sam, come on man. Please? Let's eat and then we can talk ok? You need your strength."

"Oh yeah? For what?" Sam sniffled, turning away from Dean even more.

"For the next bully whose ass you kick."

Dean saw Sam's lips twitch up at that and his grin grew. He got him now.

"Come on Sammy. I got your favorite. Curly fries."

"...With barbecue sauce?"

"I got extra. Nothing but the best for my baby brother. What do you say?"

Sam finally turned towards him and let a small smile show, nodding and lifting his hand up for Dean to take.

-*-

Dinner was relatively quiet, but not awkward like Dean was expecting. Maybe Sam had given up on finding out how Dean kept them fed, or realized how much he didn't want to talk about it. Either way, Dean was happy not to be reminded.

"Hey De?"

Dean tensed at Sam's tone. Sam's voice was small, almost afraid. And it scared the shit out of Dean.

"What's up Sammy?"

"Does it hurt?"

Dean shrugged and poked at his food. He'd had worse injuries from John, a black eye was nothing.

"It's no big deal. I've had black eyes before Sam."

Sam didn't look up from his plate, and his hands seemed frozen in place. It made Dean's stomach clench up hard.

"That's not what I meant Dean..."

Dean's whole body went white hot.

"Sam..." Dean warned, his own fists clenching around plastic utensils.

"Dean please!" Sam's cracking voice had Dean's head snapping up, and once he saw the tears forming in Sam's eyes, he rolled over. He hated seeing Sam cry.

"If you're hurting yourself, because of me! I-"

"I'm not- that's not what's happening Sam. You deserve better, ok? _We_ deserve better. Better than shitty motel rooms and gas station food. And you, you can make something of yourself Sam, but not if you continue on the hunter path. I just, I'm trying to get you there Sam. I want you to be happy."

"But it's not fair! Why isn't dad helping? Why do you have to do this?" Sam asked, sobbing loudly. He just didn't understand.

Dean lept from his chair to set himself in front of Sam and pulled him into a hug. Sam was too young to have to be dealing with this type of shit.

"Hey hey shh, it's alright Sammy. He's doing what he can, and I'm doing the rest. It's a team effort. That's what family does right?" Dean was trying so hard to be convincing, and he hoped Sam believed him. He didn't need to build resentment for their father so early. Especially since Dean wasn't old enough to legally take him away.

"Can we go to Uncle Bobby's? He said- we can call him for anything. Please? Just for a little bit?"

Dean sighed but nodded. It wouldn't give them an escape for long, and Dean would still need to work to pay Bobby back. But if it got them away from dad and made Sam happy, they could try it.

"Sure kiddo, I'll pack our bags you finish dinner ok?"

Dean had enough money to get them to Bobbys, but not enough to eat after that. Hopefully Bobby could help them out until Dean could make enough for the week. John would be furious when he found out they left, but he wouldn't do anything to him with Bobby around.

-*-

The train ride to Bobbys took a little over 5 hours. Sam had fallen asleep on Dean's shoulder an hour into their trip. It was the most peaceful he'd ever seen his brother, and Dean pledged then to dedicate his life to keeping the bad shit away. Whether that meant monsters or their dad. Sammy deserved better, and he would make damn sure it happened if he had anything to say about it.

He hugged his brother close and kissed his forehead.

"You're life ain't gonna be shit like my life Sammy. You're gonna grow and have a good life, I promise. And I'll do whatever I have to do to make it possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so bad at endings. Ugh, hopefully it wasn't too choppy. Thanks for sticking around for the end guys  
> <3


End file.
